Luck and Destiny A Marriage of Convenience
by Xandurpein
Summary: The difficulties of finding common ground in an arranged royal marriage.
1. Post Coronation

_This story was originally written as a standalone story. I have since written other stories of Queen Anora and Michael Cousland. Noww all these stories have been collected into one long story "Queen of Thorns" here, with the whole storyline. So if you liked this story please check "Queen of Thorns and read what happens after this story. _

* * *

Chapter 1. Post Coronation

The large throne room in Denerim was filled with nobles and dignitaries. Inside this grand hall it was almost possible to forget the signs carnage and destruction that had still not been removed from the ravaged city. Ferelden had survived the storm of a Blight, and a new Queen had been crowned. The centre of attention was not the Queen however, but her betrothed, Michael Cousland, the hero and savior of Ferelden. Noblemen, guards and servants all wanted to congratulate him, talk to him, touch him or just catch a glimpse of him.

It was more than anything else his day of glory. From the ashes of his family's destruction he stood before them, a triumphant, conquering hero. The bold knight who had received the Queen's hand in marriage as reward. He wished with all his weary heart that the day would soon be over. He felt too empty and lonely to be able to enjoy any of it.

Michael wryly admitted that he was actually grateful for Anora's insistence that he should appear in full battle armor at the Coronation. However cumbersome the massive plates of dragon bone were, they felt like an extra barrier from the crowd surrounding him. A shell to retreat within.

He saw Fergus smiling in his direction. Of all the things that had happened today, seeing his brother again was the one thing that had really made him happy. All this time he had felt the duty as the last living Cousland as an almost crushing burden. It wasn't until his parents death that he had truly come to appreciate what it meant to have all those traditions rest on his shoulders. That it was up to him and him alone now, to carry the family name. The thought that Fergus was still there, to share that burden with him, meant more than any friendship in the world.

He smiled back at Fergus. He felt the urge to talk some more to him, but he didn't quite knew what to say. As happy as he was, he also felt a distance between them. He had yet to figure out how to pick up their relationship after everything that happened to him. He felt so different from the hopeful reckless man he had been a year ago. Maybe Fergus own losses had changed him too.

Not far from Fergus, he saw Loghain standing with a slightly bored look. In the short time he had come to know the man he had developed a certain respect for him and he even believed it was mutual, but he never stopped feeling awkward with Loghain, not to mention the fact that he soon would be his father in law. Michael had seen how Anora seemed to make a point of ignoring him the entire ceremony. Loghain seemed almost like an anachronism to Michael, as if he was out of place and belonged to a previous era.

Michael saw a smiling Leliana standing in a circle of admirers. Retelling the tale of their adventure, and doubtlessly adding new things every time. Since his betrothal to Queen Anora, the redhead rogue had treated him as if their relationship only had been a minor flirt, hardly worth mentioning. He was sure it had been more than that, even if the right moment never had seemed to come for them, or the right word never had been spoken. He was being childish and he knew it. He was the one who had finally doomed whatever their relationship might have become, when he proposed to the Queen, but some part of him still resented that she had accepted it so lightly.

While Michael was lost in thoughts, Queen Anora regarded him from her corner, near one of the huge bonfires that warmed the hall. Not for the first time she wondered if it had been a terrible mistake to accept his bold proposal. She had been convinced that Michael would force her into marrying Maric's bastard son, to placate Eamon. She was even half-resigned to it, when he had surprised her with his offer. Her instinct had been to try and talk him out of it, but to have the such a hero, and a Cousland at that, by her side seemed the ideal solution to solidify her reign. She had also been only too aware of Arl Eamon's schemes to dare refuse him.

She had finally reached the goal of her ambition. She was the ruling Queen of Fereldan. She would never again be over shadowed by her father or Cailan again. Instead however she had given her hand to this Hero of Fereldan, as she had herself had named him. Michael Cousland, the man who had led the country's armies to victory against the Blight. The Warden hero who even had slain the Archdemon and lived. She was still trying to determine who he really was, but what she had seen so far was enough to cause her concern.

Anora found herself wondering what her future husband really wanted from their alliance. A title and influence, that was obvious, but what else? She had long since realized that a Queen had no business letting herself be ruled by romantic fancy, but that didn't mean she couldn't allow herself to hope that he might be more a pleasant partner than Cailan. She still knew nothing of his true ambition though. Was he content to be her consort or did he aim higher. She had after all ruled Fereldan in all but name, during Cailan's reign. Did he harbor similar thoughts?

She couldn't help but compare him to her father. His massive armor was made of dull grey dragon bone and spoke of business rather than royal finery, just like her father's. Not like the gold and silverite plated suits Maric and Cailan had sported. He was tall and imposing. His raven hair was slightly unruly and the fringe just bit too long. He had the same unidentifiable aura of command her father had, made only more attractive in him by the fact that he often seemed unaware of it. He would be a difficult ally to control at best, she realized, and at worst a formidable enemy.

In the meantime Michael turned to look at Anora. She had her blonde hair carefully braided and rolled into two austere buns. Even alone in a corner of the hall she was beautiful and regal he thought, but she also looked oddly lonely and almost a little lost. When he watched her, he wondered why she seemed to avoid the celebrations. It was her triumph as much as his, and yet she seemed to shy away from the crowd. Not for the first time did he wonder what life as her husband would be.

He remembered the day in Denerim when he had worked up the nerve to ask for her hand in marriage. It had seemed so logical then. It was obvious that Alistair was frightened by Eamon's insistence that he should assume the Crown and he had probably been a bit scared of the Queen too. He himself had felt the burden of his Cousland heritage and realized that a bond with the Queen could maybe in one move make up for all the terrible things that had happened to his family.

In truth Anora's reputation as a determined and efficient ruler had only made the proposal seem more attractive then. For over a year now he had felt the crushing burden of authority and responsibility. He had felt just relief at the thought of letting her assume responsibilities he was weary of.

The unbidden image of Alistair in his mind brought bile to his throat. Alistair had in the short span he had known him become the sort of childhood best friend he had never had, or so he had believed. But in the final confrontation he had realized that he had never really known the man. Alistair had abandoned him, the war and everything they had strived for, when Michael had been pushed to let Loghain become a Grey Warden by Riordan.

How could things have possibly come to that? How could their bond have been broken over the fate of the tortured figure of Loghain? He still could not see how he could have acted differently, but neither could he really fault Alistair. He couldn't make up his mind if Alistair had betrayed him, or if he had betrayed Alistair. All he knew was that it had left an open wound in his soul, festering with doubt and regret.

He suddenly realized that Anora had noticed him and was looking back at him. He heaved a sigh. Even if he wanted to retreat from the celebrations he knew he ought to talk to her. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and made his way past the people surrounding him and walked across the stones of the hall towards her. Anora waited for him straight and still.

"Allow me to offer you my personal gratulations Warden," she said as she acknowledged him with the a slight graceful curtsey. Her voice was neutral and business like.  
"I must admit that while I did not share my father's pessimism regarding the Grey Wardens, I had my doubts that so small a number of you could be victorious. Yet... here you are." Her voice trailed off.

For moment the silence between them grew awkward. Michael relived the final battle in his head again. The desperate charge, the street battles, Riordan's mad leap to his death and the final dreadful fight against the Archdemon. It didn't quite seem real to him, more like a bad dream.

"We... we were lucky," he said and realized he meant it.

"The Maker smiles upon you, or so they are saying," Anora replied, still maintaining her composure. "Luck and destiny are two branches of the same tree."

He looked at her silently. He suddenly realized that her feelings may not be so different from his own. She had lost a great deal to achieve this victory too. Did she wonder why her father had betrayed her, or indeed if she had betrayed him? The silence between them dragged on and he felt his embarrassment grow.

"At any rate, I understand that preparations are underway for our wedding," Anora suddenly said, stumbling a little on the words. "Are you nervous?" she asked him almost shyly.

Michael looked quizzically at her. She had sounded so unlike the woman he had come to expect. He knew her as a regal Queen and formidable politician. He hadn't quite been able to picture her as a nervous bride. Was he nervous? He had thought he had long since resigned himself to the inevitable, but now he realized that Anora still could make him feel nervous and awkward.

"Perhaps a little," he admitted.

"Good," Anora said and smiled in relief. "I feel the same. You are quite... intimidating you know."  
The woman looked almost bashful as she said it, he thought. She found him intimidating? If anything, he was a bit in awe of her.

"I guess that makes two of us then," he answered her smiling. "You are quite formidable yourself." Anora giggled, but then her face sobered.

He wanted desperately to say something before this moment passed, but he felt drained and almost numbed by everything that had passed in the last few days.

"I guess we ought to make the best of things together now, you and I, he said finally."

"I suppose so, she answered him tonelessly."

For a moment she avoided his gaze, but then she suddenly composed herself and was all business again.

"We will need to speak more of the role you wish to play. As hero of Ferelden, there are many opportunities, she said. But that can wait. For now enjoy the celebration. We can speak further when the day is done."

Michael realized that the conversation was over and retreated down to the revelry below. He took a deep breath and prepared to smile yet some more and to be displayed to the eager crowd outside.

Anora watched Michael as he made his way through the celebrants below. He had a disarming demeanor that somehow made it so easy to confide in him, she thought. She had not meant to admit any of her thoughts about the wedding to him, and yet somehow he had made seem a natural thing to do. Nor did he seem afraid to bare similar thoughts to her. She didn't know what to make of him. Anora continued to look at him all the way until he had passed out through the huge doors.


	2. A Day in Court

Chapter 2. A Day in Court

Anora sat in her chamber looking critically at her appearance in the mirror. The chamber was a small cubicle adjoining the bedroom with her more intimate personal belongings. Erlina was carefully braiding her blonde hair. Anora knew she was still considered something of a beauty, and even if she could see the first signs of age showing in her face, they were still possible to hide.

"He is very handsome, your new husband, is he not?" Erlina said.

"I suppose." Anora replied guardedly.

"Do... do you like the Prince then?" Erlina asked timidly.

Did she like him? Anora wondered. It was a week since the wedding ceremony and she had not made up her mind about her new husband. So far he had been courteous without fault, but in truth she had not seen much of him. It's not that she had been consciously avoiding him, or at least that is what she told herself, but organizing the rebuilding of the ravaged country took all her effort. She simply had no time to deal with Michael too.

"He is not so bad, I suppose." Anora answered finally.

So far he had fulfilled the duties she had set before him well. She had let him be in charge of rebuilding Denerim's defenses. There were several breeches in city wall that had only been temporarily repaired, and the guard force was still low on strength, but things where now looking a lot better than before Michael had started to deal with it. He certainly seemed capable, but that wasn't necessarily all good, especially as he was also immensely popular.

"At least he knows to treat you right, no?" Erlina said as she begun to roll the braids into buns and pin them to the back of Anora's head.

Anora grimaced. The wedding night had been an awkward thing. As far as she was concerned their marriage was a business arrangement and false closeness did not enter into the picture. She was prepared to do her duty in the bed chamber, but his eagerness to try and please her in various ways beyond what was needed for the act, only served to prolong things unnecessarily.

Part of her knew she was being unfair to him. She could not really fault him for trying to make their moments in bed pleasing. He just unnerved her. She got the feeling that he was used to a different reception from women and his attempts only made her feel inadequate. And that was a feeling she had spent all her life fighting.

Erlina finished Anora's coiffure, and Anora rose. She had to find Master Felham and go over the latest numbers on the taxes from the Bannorn. Technically it could wait, but she wanted it done as soon as possible.

"I'll be in in the treasurer's office Erlina. Please arrange so that anyone seeking me knows and have them wait until tomorrow."

"As you wish my Lady, but... "

"What is it?" Anora asked irritably.

"My Lady, the Prince - you husband. He... he said he needed to talk to you," Erlinas voice trailed off.

"He'll just have to wait. I have more important things now," Anora said. She was going to deal with her husband, but not just now.

* * *

Half an hour later Michael knocked on the door to Anora's study. Erlina opened the door for him.

"Erlina, Is my wife in?" Michael asked her, smiling at her.

"I... I'm sorry my Lord. But the Queen, she is in the treasurer's office and begs you to seek her tomorrow instead," Erlina answered excusing. Michael's smile froze.

"I suppose she must be very busy then," he said in a tired voice. "Just tell her that unless she is willing to discuss funding, the the dwarves, who supervise the rebuilding of South Gate, will leave. If that matters to her that is."

"My Lady... she has a lot of things on her mind. I'm sure she just forgot about it." Erlina wrung her hands.

"Don't bother. We both know she is just avoiding me," Michael retorted angrily and Erlina's eyes widened. He cringed inwardly. He was surprised at how bitter had sounded. He had no business taking it out on a servant.

"Erlina, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound like that," Michael said.

"My Lord," Erlina whispered. "You don't need to apologize to me."

"But I do. Whatever happens you are loyal to my wife and Queen, you always have been. I owe you gratitude for that and my harsh words shame me. She is lucky to have you. We both are." Michael offered her a brief smile and then he bowed to her and left.

Erlina watched him leave, regarding him carefully. The Queen is lucky to have you too, my Prince, she thought to herself, even if she doesn't realize it yet.

* * *

Michael went down to the officers quarters and called for a young man at arms to follow him to the inner courtyard. He needed to work off his frustration and physical combat was the best way he knew for that.

As he let his squire help him put on his armor, he studied his opponent. She was new here in Denerim, but he prided himself on knowing his men by name. Then he remembered, her name was Mhairi. Captain Kylon had spoken highly of her prowess, and mentioned that she had even expressed a wish to join the Grey Wardens. Michael knew they would eventually have to recruit new Grey Wardens, even if he had put such thoughts off. He was still not sure of how he felt about asking other men and women to take that terrible test.

Mhairi was glowing with anticipation as she donned her battle gear. She was going to test her prowess against the famous Warden Prince. She had vowed to become worthy to join the Grey Wardens herself one day. To meet the Hero of Fereldan like this was her chance to prove herself.

An hour later Mhairi was sweating profusely in her heavy armor. She had ignored the snide remarks from the other men at arms around her, when the Prince had called her. Now she begun to understand the reason for their amusement. Sparring with the Prince was brutal.

He had a fluid, hypnotic motion that somehow made him lightning fast, even if he seemed to move slower to the eye. Over and over he landed blows on her that seemed to come out of nowhere. She narrowly avoided a heavy swing only to fall over and crash to the ground, when the Prince followed up the swing with a shield bash, putting his entire weight behind the blow.

Mhairi lay dazed and humiliated on the ground. She tasted blood in her mouth and her vision was blurred.

"I think we are done for the day. Good work Mhairi." Michael said and nodded to her.

"You... you're too kind Your Highness," Mhairi answered weakly.

* * *

A bit more relaxed Michael waved the squire off and removed his armor himself. Then he lowered himself into a large hot water tub. Mhairi had been surprisingly good. Maybe she still fought a bit too nicely. There was little room for chivalry when fighting darkspawn. He hoped he hadn't been too rough on her. He needed the exercise to work out the stress in his body, but he shouldn't have hit so hard.

Anora had made it obvious to him in every possible way that she did not want him to interfere in the day to day running of the state, beyond the purely military matters. Often she seemed to simply avoid him altogether, and whenever he had time to talk to her, she always had some task for him that would take him out of Denerim or otherwise keep him away from her. He had been prepared for her to be suspicious of his motives, but he had harbored hopes that be able to prove her wrong, only she never seemed to give him any chance.

The tasks she had for him where in truth far from taxing. What frustrated him was that he still harbored hopes that he could convince Anora to trust him and maybe even be her friend. He knew his own parents marriage had been arranged for political reasons, and yet they had over the years developed a deep affection and love for each other. Somehow he had thought that was the natural thing to happen.

There had been moments when Anora had seemed to lower her guard and let him see another person behind the frosty exterior she usually reserved for him. When she had let him see the same woman who had seemed so alone at the coronation before, or given him that shy smile. She had a smile to die for, he thought, and yet it was so seldom he could make her show it. He felt inadequate and frustrated. He couldn't even tell what kind of person she wanted him to be for her.

Michael heaved himself out of the wooden tub and let the servant dress him. Then he began to walk away. He would need to placate an angry dwarf at the South Gate with nothing but words, one more day.

* * *

As he walked across the courtyard Michael saw Mhairi come the other way from the women's barracks.

"Thank you Mhairi. That was good sparring," he said, hoping that a few encouraging words would make up for the rough beating he had given her.

"It is I who should thank you your Highness, for showing me your skills. Now I can believe all the tales of the Grey Wardens," she answered him. Mhairi looked at him with such earnest admiration, that he had to smile.

"You honor me. Same time tomorrow perhaps?"

"Of course, your Highness. As you wish." Mhairi straightened herself and saluted him.

Mhairi watched the Prince leave the courtyard, with eyes glowing. Now she could believe all the tales of the Prince. He was as chivalrous as he was skilled in arms. Despite the ease with which he had defeated her, she was more determined than ever to be worthy of joining the Grey Wardens. She could think of no greater honor than to stand side by side with men like him.


	3. Unrest in the alienage

Chapter 3. Unrest in the Alienage

As Michael made his way out of the Royal Palace, a burly guard hailed him. Michael halted and turned to face the man.

"I beg your pardon, your Highness, I'm sure it's nothing. Only, there are two elves who insist that they have an important message for you."

Michael frowned. He was not expecting any mesage, least of all from any unknown elves.

"Did they mention their errand?" Michael asked.

"No your Highness, they only gave a name. One of them said he was a Vaeln... Valedre.. something like that."

"Elder Valendrian?" Michael asked wondering.

"Yes. That was the name I think. Do you want me to throw them out, your Majesty?"

"Of course not, imbecille! Elder Valendrian is the Hahren of the Alienage. Don't you know anything?"

The Guardsman backed away from the unexpected outburst.

"Just show the elves to my quarters. Take them there personally and make sure they won't be harassed by anyone else on the way."

* * *

When Michael reached the spacious room he used as study and office, he saw that the two elves already waited outside for him, together with the guardsman who brought him the message. One of them was indeed Elder Valendrian, and the other a fiery young redhead he recognized as Shianni, the woman who had helped him expose the Tevinter slavers during the war. Valendrian smiled graciously and bowed when he arrived, but Shianni only gave him the briefest nod, bordering on the insolent.

"Hahren, Shianni, what can I do for you?" he said as he showed them in.

"You can get the Queen to remember that the elves are part of Fereldan just as the humans for a start," Shianni said hotly.

"Now, now Shianni. Mind your manners in front of the Prince," Valendrian cautioned her. Shianni opened her mouth to say something, but then shut it, glaring at the Elder.

Michael waited a moment before saying anything. He knew Shianni for an outspoken woman, but this seemed more than that. She must be genuinely upset about something.

¨"Let's forget protocol and just tell me what it is you want say," he said finally.

"It's the situation in the Alienage," Shianni began, before Valendrian had a chance to open his mouth. "You have seen it with your own eyes. The people... we won't stand for this treatment much longer."

"Would you care to be more specific?"

"It's everything. The food shortage, the guards who won't police the area, all the homeless people from the war. It's... it's just too much." The words seem to pour out of Shianni's mouth.

"A lot of what you describe, are problems for everyone. The war has ravaged the country and we will likely suffer food shortages everywhere until next harvest, and rebuilding homes is on the top of the Queen's agenda," Michael answered diplomatically.

"But not in the Alienage!" Shianni replied hotly. "Everyone knows that there are less houses built for us than for the shem."

"All we are saying, Your Highness, is that many inhabitants in the Alienage feel that the Crown have forgotten the elves," Valendrian cut in. "Even if you think this is wrong, it is still how people perceive things. We have tried to bring this to the Queen's attention, but she has not responded."

"We only hoped that you could talk to the Queen," Valendrian said and looked intently at Michael. "No one will benefit from... unrest."

"I will of course bring your words to the Queen's attention," Michael said slowly. "The country is still in turmoil and her attention is required everywhere, but I'll make sure she hears of your concerns."

"Thank you, your Highness. That is all we ask for," Valendrian replied.

"Unless you happen to have anything, but words to offer, like actually helping people," Shianni muttered to herself.  
Michael decided to pretend to not have heard her. Valendrian had sent him a warning. Unrest was brewing in the Alienage.

As he watched the two elves leave he wondered about the situation. The Alienage had always been the bottom of society. No one spoke for them and no one listened.

He suspected that this was a lot of the real problem. If anything the Alienage had escaped lighter than many other parts of the Denerim, thanks to the spirited defense he had took part in. Now the elves where rightly proud of their actions during the battle, but the humans hardly knew of it.

The isolation led to hopelessness. The few attempts to do something about the situation seemed always to fail because no one expected it to be anything but a failure. What was needed was some authority who could speak for the elves and bring hope so people dared try to build something lasting.

Abruptly Michael rose from his desk. Maybe it was just a technicality, but possible unrest was something that required immediate attention. He had a reason to confront the Queen and he might as well use it. He briskly strode towards the treasury. One way or another he had to get her attention this time.

* * *

One of the guards outside the treasury office opened the door and cleared his throat.

"I beg your pardon Majesty, but the Prince is here to see you," he said bowing.

"Why? What is it?" Anora said, turning towards the door with an annoyed frown.

Michael took a deep breath and then entered the room himself, pushing himself past the guard.

"I really need to talk to you Anora," he said. "Now."

"If it is about the South Gate, I'm sure it can wait," Anora said bristling.

"It's not about the South Gate, and it really can't wait. If master Felham can please spare you, we need to talk. Alone."  
Anora's watched him tensely, then she tossed her head abruptly.

"We'll continue later Master Felham, as soon as my husband and I are done."

"I assume you have a good reason for this husband," Anora said in a brisk, business like tone, once they were alone.

"We need to talk about the Alienage, Anora. It's a mess and we need to do something."

"The Alienage? You disturb me to discuss that? The Alienage has been a mess for a hundred years. Why the hurry to discuss it now?" Anora asked.

"I have received word that there may be unrest, even riots, brewing. We can still stop it, but we need to act soon."

Anora frowned. There had been a few food riots in the east, but unrest in Denerim was bad, even if it was localized to the Alienage.

"I trust the guards are enough to protect the city. Have you identified the leaders? With luck you can arrest them before it spreads," Anora said thoughtfully.

"I was hoping it wouldn't have to come to that," Michael answered her. "I thought we could discuss some concessions to the elves, to placate them."

"We have been through all that before," Anora sighed irritated. "No one should need to starve, but beyond that we have no money to buy more grain. Both humans and elves will have to tighten their belts this year. Didn't you even listen when we discussed it?"

"No Anora I did not. You had forgotten to invite me to the Court meeting yesterday," Michael retorted angrily. He felt a sudden burst of rage. It was one thing to be slighted, but didn't she even remember it?

Anora was taken aback by his outburst. She had never seen him this angry before and she realized that she had forgotten how intimidating he could be. She decided to at least hear him out, until she had figured out how to deal with the situation.

"What do you propose then?" she asked him warily.

"If you say there is no more money for grain, I take your word for it," Michael replied. "You know that better than me. I had something else in mind though and with luck it won't cost us much at all. I want you to appoint Elder Valendrian as royal official with status as Bann for the elves."

"What will that accomplish? Besides making the elves bolder in their demands."

"The problem with the elves are that they are too apart from us. We need a leader we can talk to. If the elves felt we respected their leaders, then I think a lot of the tension will disappear. Besides, we can only benefit from it. You know as well as I do that anything we do for the elves will be undone as long as there is no working administration there."

Anora considered his proposal frowning. If things turned out as he claimed, this idea might actually be a good solution.

"Elder Valendrain is a good man, but does he really have the strength to administer the Alienage?" she asked finally?

"I doubt it," Michael replied. "That's why we should appoint Shianni as his administrator."

"Shianni? Isn't she a trouble maker? Last I heard she was inciting protests against the missing grain deliveries."

"You are missing the point Anora. She is actually organizing something. Don't you realize how rare that is in the Alienage? If she has the drive to do that, then she can do a lot of good too. She is honest and means well, even if she is slow to trust humans. We just have to show her some good will and give her the authority to deal with things. Valendrian will soften her edges."

Anora looked down, but she felt his eyes bore into her. He spoke of the elven girl, but she suddenly realized that he might as well have been talking about himself. She chewed her lip nervously. He did make a lot of sense, if she could trust him.

"I take it you have discussed this proposal with the Elder," she said, finally.

"No Anora I have not," Michael replied slowly. "I think it will be better if you do that."

"You are a good Queen Anora and the people of Fereldan love you, but we have to face it. Too many elves still think that you are only the daughter of the tyrant who sold their families into slavery."

Anora opened her mouth to protest, but Michael motioned her to silence.

"I didn't say it was right or fair, Anora. I only said that it is what they think, and you know that it's true. So if we are to make any concession to the elves it is important that it is seen to be coming from you, not from me."

"This is not a popularity contest Anora," Michael continued softly. "This is what is best for Fereldan and that's why we should do it this way. Right now we still need to unify the country. All of Fereldan, even the elves, should believe in their Queen's mercy and justice."

Anora felt her cheeks heat with shame. What he said was logical and right, but in her heart she had believed that he was only out to make himself popular at her expense. She had misjudged him.

"Very well. I'll make the arrangements you suggested immediately," she said, fighting to regain her composure. "But have the guards be on alert if the worst comes to pass." For a long moment they both remained still, waiting for the other to say something.

"Anora," Michael said finally, breaking the silence. "Whatever you think of me, I have never been your enemy. I want to be your ally, maybe even your friend, but you have to let me."

Anora straightened herself and lifted her head to meet his eyes and nodded slowly.

"Thank you, for... bringing this to my attention. But I must return to Master Felham now. Maybe... maybe you can help us," she continued cautiously. "It might be a good time for you to learn more about these matters, unless you have some other duty that occupies you."

"Not at all Anora, I am at your service," he replied and smiled at her.


	4. Out of Control

Chapter 4. Out of control

Anora was pacing back and forth in the large chamber that served as her primary workplace. A clerk sat dutifully at the desk, prepared to fill a carefully decorated parchment with the Queen's words for the Orlesian ambassador. She opened her mouth to speak, when the sound of metal ringing outside broke the silence.

Anora smiled to herself. She had to admit that her husband had proven to be a far better partner than she had believed at first. He was quick to learn and seemed to grasp the necessities of office well. But mornings like these, he reserved for physical workout. He seemed determined to keep his skills in arms ready, even if it meant bruising the knights he trained with.

Anora didn't mind at all. His legendary prowess was worth battalions of soldiers in deterring enemies. But she also had to admit that she enjoyed those moments of peace, when she could work alone. For all his good intentions Michael had a way of entangling them in endless arguments over ridiculous points in her decisions. He always bowed to her will in the end, but not until he had spent quite some time trying to make her see his way.

At some level she had to admit that her decisions often became much better after such lengthy arguments. Many times he had fair points that she needed to address anyway, but sometimes his arguments seemed just a pointless waste of time. The sheer effort it took them to reach an agreement exasperated her. Still, it could have been a lot worse, she thought.

Anora couldn't resist moving to the window and look down to watch her husband sparring with one of the knights. She saw them circling each other slowly, until they suddenly closed in on each other in a blur of steel. They crashed their shields into each other and then Michael's opponent landed a blow straight on the side of his helmet that sent him reeling.

Michael stood swaying a bit and then removed the helmet.

"My Prince, are you… are you all right? I didn't mean to." Mhairi removed her own helmet and hurried to Michael's side.

Michael shook his head and smiled.

"Nothing to worry about. You know I don't want you to hold back. But I think we're done for the day. I have other duties now. Maker's breath, that was a good blow Mhairi. Well done!"

Mhairi bowed and stammered in gratitude, flushed by his praise.

Above Anora frowned irritated. She didn't care at all for this new warrior woman. Mhairi was obviously infatuated with her husband, even if he pretended to be oblivious about it. The way the woman idolized him openly was sickening.

* * *

"You are late," Anora said curtly as Michael entered the chamber some time later.

"My apologies Anora," he replied frowning, "but I was detained by a messenger from Weisshaupt."

"The Grey Wardens?" She asked him and forgot her irritation.

"Yes. They have sent a detachment of Orlesian Wardens to Amaranthine and this message says I am to assume Command of Vigil's Keep. They wouldn't dare phrase it as an order, but it's obvious that they expect me to come shortly."

"This is a lousy moment for me to leave," Michael sighed. "The trouble in the Bannorn looks like it will deteriorate and we may need to have the army prepared for the worst."

"I agree," Anora said thoughtfully, "but this offer might be hard to decline. While I have every intention of keeping my promise to the Grey Wardens, I would much prefer to have a Fereldan loyal to us in Amaranthine. If you refuse this, Weisshaupt will probably appoint one of the Orlesian Wardens as Commander, and we are already far too exposed to Orlais to leave Amaranthine in the hands of an Orlesian, if we can avoid it."

Michael nodded. While he didn't share her father Loghain's mad fear of everything Orlesian, he didn't trust Orlais good intentions longer than he needed either.

"Then I must go to Vigil's Keep as soon as possible," he said.

Anora remained still for a moment regarding him, and then she nodded.

"Good," she said. "Remember that as Commander of the Grey you will be acting as Arl of Amaranthine too then."

Michael snorted at the thought. He would now be Arl of Rendon Howe's Amaranthine, even if it was only temporary. That was not exactly what he had dreamed of.

"I'll start making the arrangements. Unless you have anything particular that needs my attention, I can have everything in order shortly. We'll leave the day after tomorrow."

"We? You're taking someone with you then?" Anora asked, arching an eye brow.

"Yes. We need to rebuild the Grey Wardens. Mhairi has asked to be allowed to join and I think she'll make a fine recruit."

"I'm sure she will," Anora answered tonelessly. She felt a knot in her stomach.

* * *

That night Anora lay awake in their bed gazing at the fabric above them. Their lovemaking had been brief and business like. She heard on his heavy breathing beside her, that he was already asleep. It had been like that a lot lately, she realized.

She had found herself more and more conflicted about their intimate moments together. She had no idea what he wanted of her and mostly she was just relieved when it was over. Her father's horribly brusque warnings that she ought to hurry up and get with child soon had not exactly helped either.

She had to admit that sometimes, when they were lying silent together under the blankets, she would enjoy the feeling of his warmth touching her in the dark, but other times she just wished she could be alone and didn't have to think about him.

She couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before he abandoned her bed completely for a younger, more willing woman. Like this Mhairi who was obviously fawning on him and would now journey alone with him to Amaranthine. How long would it take before she made a move on him then, out of sight from prying eyes.

So far Anora's careful inquires had not mentioned any secret liaison between Mhairi and her husband, except for the regular training sessions, but she was under no illusions. Men where men, and they would only resist a female admirer so long.

When she had tried to confront him about it, he claimed that Mhairi only wished to become a Grey Warden and no doubt she was naively idolizing him for being the man who had ended the Blight and slain the Archdemon. Michael insisted that, as far as he knew, she didn't have any untoward designs on him. He refused to send her away as she had not acted in any way improperly. Could he really be so dense when it came to women, or was he secretly encouraging the woman behind her back?

She sighed. Even if Mhairi was as innocent as Michael claimed, it was only a matter of time before it would be someone else. It was bound to happen, just like with Cailan, she thought bitterly. She felt a lump in her throat and a sense of loss and loneliness swept over her.

Angrily she turned away from him and curled up under the blankets. Soon he would be gone, she thought, and then she could at least have some peace. And whatever foolishness he would get himself involved in with that woman, would be away in Amaranthine and not the talk on the streets in Denerim.

* * *

Two days later Michael had his old travelling gear brought forth from a chest in his wardrobe. He carefully packed his things himself, dismissing the servants offer to do it. Remembering all too well the last time he had done so, the last night before the final march to Denerim and the fight against the Archdemon.

When he was finished packing, he donned his armor and shield, and took his rune etched long sword that a squire had reverently brought forth. He studied dispassionately the eerie flickering light shining from the tiny gap between hilt and a scabbard.

Mhairi waited for him when he walked out into the main court yard. She had been waiting for almost an hour, too excited to contain herself. Her eyes shone when she saw him come to meet her. Finally her dream would come true. She would be allowed to go through the joining and become a Grey Warden.

The stable hands brought them horses. Two proud destriers and a smaller pack animal. Michael never felt comfortable on horseback, despite her father's insistence that a true Cousland must know how to fight both mounted and on foot.

Michael looked at Mhairi again. He had to smile at her impatience. Alistair would have liked her, he thought to himself. She seemed to have the same ideal vision of the Grey Wardens as he had had. As always he winced a little at the memory of Alistair. He hoped Mhairi wouldn't be as disappointed as his fellow Warden had become.

He had, since his joining, learned that the Grey Wardens where far more often the last chance for thieves and murderers, than the home for chivalrous knights. It felt nice to have Mhairi with him though. Maybe there was hope for a brighter future for the order, if people like her would join the Grey Wardens. Men and women who truly believed in something better than just the grim dark reality.

Anora had avoided him all morning. Michael wondered if that had anything to do with her ridiculous accusation that Mhairi somehow was out to seduce him. He had to acknowledge that young woman seemed to have a slight case of hero worship, something that mostly served to embarrass him. But he had seen nothing to indicate that there were any romantic feelings involved.

As Michael prepared to ride out through the palace gate, he wondered if he should wait for a chance to bid his wife farewell. Then Anora stepped out into the courtyard. Michael bowed to her, and then sought her gaze.

"Farewell husband and good luck," she said formally.

"Thank you Anora and Farewell," he answered. Then he urged the horse out through the gate, while she remained watching him leave.

"Take care of yourself husband," she whispered to herself.

* * *

The following days Anora buried herself in reports on grain deliveries, merchant taxes and the unruly Bannorn, with a grim determination. Once in a while during court she found herself turning to her husband's empty chair for a comment on some difficult technicality, only to purse her mouth and proceed as if nothing had happened.

It was only when she was alone in her private quarters with Erlina that she allowed herself to admit to that having Michael sent away on a long journey, especially when he was accompanied by a pretty young woman, had done nothing for her peace of mind..

She found herself staring at her own image in the mirror, as Erlina combed her hair. What did Michael really see when he looked at her? she wondered. Did he see those lines under her eyes few would yet notice, but she could see all too well? Did he see how the gown cleverly prevented her breasts from sagging? Did he see her as a woman at all, or did he just see a taskmistress?

"Guard!" she called loudly. "Guard!" She waved Erlina off and rose from her chair.

"You Majesty called?" a man at arms asked, peering nervously into the queens private chamber.

"Yes, order a troop of knights assembled. Tell them that they are to escort me to Amaranthine immediately. Tell them I intend to provide the Wardens a formal welcome to Fereldan."


	5. Till Death do us Part

Chapter 5. Till Death do us Part

When Anora's following neared Vigil's Keep they saw more and more signs that something was terribly amiss. The lands around the Keep were deserted when they saw the ancient fortress she could see the big gate open and the doors ajar. Smoke was rising from one of the towers. They hurried towards the fortress.

The first thing she saw as she entered through the gate was a small group of armed people. Her heart skipped as she saw Michael stand in their centre, looking grim, with his armor covered in stains of blood and gore. He looked unhurt, but with all the blood it was hard to tell. She felt a little queasy as she watched him. Anora collected herself and approached them. Michael detached himself from the others knelt to formally greet her.

"It seems we arrived too late to be of assistance," Anora said looking at the group. "My apologies."

"Queen Anora!" Mhairi said wide eyed and knelt behind Michael.

"I had intended to provide the Wardens a formal welcome," Anora said, watching the scene of carnage inside the fortress. "This is unexpected to say the least. What is the situation?"

Varel, the old Seneschal, explained how Darkspawn had killed or abducted all the Orlesian Wardens in a surprise attack. Then Michael had led a small band in a counter attack and killed all the enemies. Anora didn't listen to all of it. She looked worriedly at Michael instead, searching for hints that any of the blood stains where his own.

"I trust you are well husband?" she asked nervously. "No... permanent damage?"

"I'm fine Anora," Michael answered, smiling briefly before becoming serious again. "But this makes things difficult."

"Since when have things ever been simple," Anora sighed.

Anora listened as Varel gave her a quick explanation of the situation. Things appeared to be reasonably under control, but it seemed obvious that Amaranthine was under threat of a darkspawn invasion. She frowned. There was no escaping the decision. Michael would simply have to stay here as Warden Commander and set things in order.

"It troubles me to ask you to leave the court in order to deal with this," she said unhappily. If I had any other choice.

"Don't worry about it. I will deal with it." Michael answered smiling. Anora tried to return his smile.

"And this is why you are a Prince of Fereldan," she said, suddenly feeling proud of him.

He looked so confident and at ease, even amidst the remains of, what must have been a terrible battle. She tried compose herself.

"It will be up to you to deal with the vestiges of the Blight before the situation grows out of control. No easy task, but I'm confident you are up to it," she said, and realized that she really meant it. This was what he was born for.

"Now I shall leave you be, she said and swallowed."

She looked at him and realized that this might be the last she would see of him for months.

"Good luck husband," she finished softly.

* * *

Many weeks later Michael sat awake by the campfire. He unwrapped an oilskin cloth and removed a small journal from it. He opened the cover and saw the funny little drawing on the first page. It was a nug, Leliana had assured him, when she made the drawing. She had always teased him about his journal. He rifled through the pages and remembered everything.

The first page was from Vigil's Keep. He had written it in his private chamber in the top floor of fortress. He assumed that the desk he had used there once had belonged to Rendon Howe, just as everything else in the fortress.

He used Howe's private study for his work, but could not bring himself to use the master bedroom. Instead he had appropriated a smaller chamber that he assumed had belonged to Howe's daughter once. That didn't come without awkward feelings either though, considering that her father had intended to make him marry the girl once.

That day he had been trying to write up a tally of the events of the day, in the leather bound ledger that belonged to the Warden Commander. The ledger contained names of the Grey Warden's of Fereldan, together with dates and places of joinings and deaths.

He had seen his own name on a previous page written in Duncan's slightly haphazard handwriting, and under it Loghain's name, entered by Riordan. Varen had dutifully entered the names of the Orlesian Wardens who had come to Vigil's keep before him. Names he then, as Commander, had had to strike with a note of how and when it had happened.

He had dipped the pen in the ink and drawn a line, then he had begun entering the names of the three new Wardens that had joined today. Anders, the mage. He hoped his instincts was right about him. He felt there was a hidden depth to the seemingly carefree, reckless apostate. Oghren, the self destructive dwarf, who always seemed bent on wrecking his life in new ways.

Nathaniel Howe. Now there was an irony to be sure. He had sat at Rendon Howe's desk and entered the details of how he became the Commander of Howe's own son. He had wanted to hate Nathaniel, but he found it impossible to feel anything but pity for the youth.

Then had he dipped the pen again and started to write one more name. Mhairi. He had tried to steady his hand, but a huge ink blot almost made the name unreadable. Why did Mhairi, of all recruits have to die at the joining? She who truly believed in the finest ideals the Grey Wardens could hope to aspire.

Michael remebered the tears stinging in his eyes. Would it always be like that he wondered? Did becoming a Warden always destroy the decent and good people, or was it just around him? He had ruined Alistair with his decisions and now he had handed Mhairi the cup that had killed her. He wondered how Duncan coped with this burden.

Michael had found himself longing to speak with Anora. She would no doubt have provided him with some perfectly logical reason why it was pointless to dwell too much on what was done, he thought with a wry smile. It was necessary after all. But at least she could understand this solitude. The burden of all those decisions with nowhere to look for strength, but within one self. He realized how much he missed her, despite everything.

That was when he had closed the ledger and started on the first letter to her. He had written more letters since then, but never actually sent any of them. It was just short scribbled notes. Mostly it was only dates and places; Wending Wood, Blackmarsh, Knotwood Hills. It didn't seem worthy of sending a soldier all the way back to Denerim to deliver them. He kept them as a journal for himself, but in his mind he still wrote them as letters to her.

Now Michael sat awake in the night two miles outside Amaranthine, ready to face the darkspawn invasion. He could only hope that the new Grey Wardens would suffice to turn the tide. He put another log on the fire and listened to the silence of the night, trying to decide what to write. Then he began.

When Michael was done he carefully dried the ink and looked and the words he had committed to the paper. He hastily ripped several of the pages from the journal and wrapped them in a piece of waxed parchment and sealed the package.

He called for a scout and gave him instructions to have it delivered to the Royal Palace in Denerim at once. Michael watched the soldier saddle a horse and set off at the gallop into the dark. Then he lay down hoping to catch some rest, before the sun broke.

* * *

Anora woke up startled in her bed, to find Erlina leaning above her.

"What's the matter?" Anora said, trying to gather her wits. "It's the middle of the night. Has something happened?"

"My apologies, your Majesty," Erlina whispered, "but I thought you wanted to know right away. A courier has arrived… from Amaranthine."

"Amaranthine?" Anora bolted upright. "The Wardens, Michael? Is… is he alright?" she asked fearfully.

"The courier says the message came from the Prince in person. He expected a huge battle soon, but the courier left before the battle actually began."

"Then… what did he have to say?" Anora asked.

"Your Majesty," Erlina said hesitating. "I fear that the news are grave. A darkspawn army is marching on Amaranthine. The Prince is leading the Grey Wardens in a counter attack, but according to the messenger they are vastly outnumbered by the enemy. Other messengers claim that Vigil's Keep is fallen, but no one knows for sure."

Anora listened mutely to the news. There had been many wild rumours of the how the Prince had battled darkspawn, monsters and dragons in Amaranthine, but a genuine darkspawn army marching on Amaranthine was a dire threat, and now Michael and a handful of Wardens was all that stood in their path. She tried to remind herself that those had been the odds, when they had faced the Blight and he had slain the Archdemon too, but that did little to calm her.

"Your Majesty," Erlina said softly. "The Prince… he sent you this." She handed her a small wrapped package, sealed with royal seal of Fereldan, to Anora.

Anora pried the seal open, trying to steady her hands, and saw the bundle of torn notes inside.

"Please leave me Erlina," she whispered as she took the papers."

She read the first note describing the new Wardens. At first she felt relief when she read about Mhairi's death, but then it was replaced by guilt and shame. His words spoke of honest grief for a fallen comrade, nothing more.

She skimmed through the papers until she saw the last page. She sat down on the bed and began reading.

"Dear Anora. Tomorrow we march on the enemy, and while I have high hopes that we will see this through, there are things I don't want to have left unsaid between us. I can't help but believe that I have been a disappointment for you. I care for you Anora, and in my naivety I thought that it would be enough, once we got married. I have tried to be worthy of you, and if I have failed, then I hope you can forgive me. Now I will try to do it the best way I know how to, fighting the enemies of our country. Your husband, Michael."

Anora bit her finger as she felt her eyes brimming with tears. He was going to pit his small force of Wardens against the darkspawn army thinking that this was the only way he could be worthy of her. He was wrong, so terribly wrong, she thought desperately. And it's all my fault.

Lying down in her bed she saw memories flood her vision. She saw her father arguing angrily with Cailan, calling him useless and unworthy. She saw Cailan looking at her imploringly for support, and his hurt, bewildered look as she sided with Loghain against him. Cailan who had died at Ostagar thinking he had to do it, to prove that he was worthy of being Maric's son and worthy of her. She saw Michael trying, every way he knew, to please her. She saw him marching down the same path of destruction as Cailan.

"Father," she thought through her tears. "You taught me to be strong and brave. Why couldn't you teach me to be grateful too?" Shaking with grief, Anora cried alone in her big empty bed. She cried for Cailan, for Michael and for the ruin she had made of her life.

"Maker, please let him come back," she whispered into the emptiness. "Make him come back."


	6. A Day for Celebration

Chapter 6. A Day for Celebration

Anora listened with mounting exasperation to the squabble between several of the Bann's present in Court. She had never liked sitting in Court, and much preferred the closer, more orderly, meetings with just the heads of the administrative branches. Now it was an effort in willpower for her to not scream at their petty fights. All she could think of was the lack of news from Amaranthine.

There were plenty of rumors though. The city of Amaranthine had either fallen or miraculously been saved, or possibly both. Vigil's Keep was expected to fall shortly, if it hadn't fallen already. The Wardens, led by the Prince, was rumored to have disappeared into the Underworld to fight alone against source of the darkspawn invasion.

Anora, bit her lip. She remembered the muted discussion she had had with her father. He had explained that it was likely that he didn't have many years left to live, before he would depart for the Deep Roads. That's what Grey Wardens did. They went into the Underworld to die, fighting the darkspawn hordes.

She saw Teyrn Cousland argue with Bann Loren about a bridge tax. At first she had found it hard to believe that Fergus Cousland and Michael where brothers, but now she could see that they had very similar eyes. She cursed herself inwardly. She wasn't concentrating. The discussions where getting heated and several Bann's where looking at her to step in and bring order.

Anora opened her mouth and prepared to speak, when a commotion at the door made her halt. The door flew open and a guard almost stumbled into the room, staring wide eyed and panting.

" What is the meaning of this intrusion?" she asked irritated.

"I… I beg your pardon, your Majesty, but a courier has arrived from Amaranthine," the guardsman said.

"They… they have won, your Majesty. The Prince has led the Grey Wardens to victory. They have defeated the darkspawn and Amaranthine is free!"

Anora gripped the arm rest on the throne. The room erupted in commotion and spontaneous cheering. Everyone started to ask the guard for more details. Only Bann Teagan took the time to look at the Queen's pale face. He cleared his throat and said loudly.

"In light of these joyous news, I think that further discussion should be postponed. I suggest that we clear the room and reconvene tomorrow instead."

One by one the noblemen left the throne room, until only Teagan was left. He looked at Anora who still remained seated on her throne.

"Will you be needing anything, you Majesty," he said courteously.

Anora shook her head.

"No, I'm fine thank you," she whispered, eyes brimming with tears. "I'm fine."

When she finally rose from the throne, she gave orders that Denerim should begin preparing to welcome the Hero of Fereldan home.

* * *

Nigella worked diligently. She had lost her job at Arl Eamon's estate together with many other. Eamon seldom visited Denerim since Anora's coronation, but she had been fortunate enough to get none other than the Prince to send a good word for her, securing her a place at the Royal Palace.

She was scrubbing the stone slabs that made up the stairs to the main entrance in the Royal Palace in Denerim. A job as servant in the Palace was a fine and well paid position, especially for an elf, but the last few days had been harrowing.

The whole courtyard had been scrubbed and polished. A huge wooden podium had been erected and decorated with fresh flowers. Large urns filled with flowers lined the path in the outer courtyard from the gate to the podium. The royal arms of Fereldan was displayed on banners hanging from every window.

The Queen had been constantly moving to oversee every part of the work. If anything was short of perfect she would throw a tantrum at the guilty part. All the servants cowered in terror when she passed them. The carpenters had even had to tear down the whole wooden construction once, because the Queen claimed the proportions were wrong.

Queen Anora would accept nothing short of absolute perfection when Denerim prepared to greet the heroic Prince who had returned from the Underworld and saved the country from destruction once more. As the day progressed, more and more people started to line the streets, hoping to catch a glimpse of the procession, while merchants and peddlers where hawking their wares in the crowd.

* * *

Anora herself had angrily gone through six different dresses. She sat down to let Erlina arrange her coiffure, while she pondered if she would keep the current dress or not. Erlina combed her long blonde hair and then bowed and picked up a headdress that was meant to match the dress she wore. It was a small but pretty hat with a pearl studded cloth in the back to hold in the hair.

Anora snorted disapproving. She had never understood the Orlesian fascination with hats. Her father had insisted that real Fereldan women did not wear hats.

"Please Erlina," she said annoyed. "Take that thing away."

"But your Majesty. I think it would be most fitting and appropriate on the occasion," Erlina replied.

"Why?" Anora said frowning?

"Why the Prince is coming home after so long. He must miss you very much. Maybe he will be... passionate tonight. You only need to remove two pins here and it comes off. No need to spoil the mood with undoing all those braids, no?"

Anora's mouth formed a little O, when she realized what Erlina meant. She looked at the hat for a long time and then she cast down her eyes.

"Erlina..." she said hesitantly looking at her hands. "Do you... do you really think that he has missed me?"

Erlina carefully finished combing Anora's hair and regarded her.

"Pardon me your Majesty," she said carefully. "But all I know is that the lady who carelessly left a pack of letters under your pillow, she has a husband who misses his wife very much, I think."

Anora bit her lip, cheeks glowing, and she nodded wordlessly as Erlina held up the headdress again, and that was how she was dressed as she stood on the podium later, waiting to greet her husband.

* * *

The first sign that the Prince and the Wardens had arrived in Denerim was the sound of cheering crowds, that rose as it came closer and closer to the Palace gates. When the cheering started in the throngs of people clustered just outside the entrance to the decorated courtyard, Anora barely restrained her desire to tiptoe to see if she could catch a first glimpse of Michael through the archway.

Then the crowd inside the courtyard erupted, accompanied by scores of blaring trumpets, when Michael dismounted his black destrier, followed by the rest of the Wardens, and walked across the courtyard. As he stepped up towards the podium, grinning at his Queen, she could no longer resist a huge smile and came to meet him.

Michael thought that the celebrations would never end. He was tired and would have preferred to just retire early, but there was no escaping the speeches, cheering and the banquet prepared in his honor afterwards.

As huge state occasions go, the banquet was better than most though, Michael thought, even if he had to be the centre of attention. His fellow Wardens seemed to enjoy the festivities. Anders was entertaining a circle of young women with an outrageous tale of how he'd been chased by a love sick Templar. Even Velanna seemed to be smiling now and then, or as close as she ever would come to a smile, at least Nathaniel was looking her way.

The most remarkable sight for Michael was however that for once Anora seemed to really enjoy herself at a feast. She laughed a lot more than he was used to, and even giggled at Oghren's antics. And sometimes, when their hands brushed, he would find her looking at him with a furtive smile.

It was not until late at night, that they finally made their way back to the royal bed chamber. He felt a little woozy from the all the wine the servants had poured him. Anora stumbled in the gloom, giggling, and grasped his arm. Michael caught her and held her. She froze in his arms, and for a long time they just stood like that unmoving.

He listened to the beat of her heart, not wanting to let go, and afraid that the slightest move would break the spell. Then she slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him like she had never kissed him before.

Afterwards, when he lay beside her in their bed, he took a last loving look at her. The light coat of sweat made her body glisten like a goddess, he thought. Then he blew out the candle and pulled up the blankets to cover her.

"Good night my Queen," he whispered as she snuggled closer to him.

THE END


End file.
